


Leviathan

by ViciousInnocence



Series: Darkness AU [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Darkfic, M/M, Mac-centric, Sadism, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousInnocence/pseuds/ViciousInnocence
Summary: He remembers reading how soldiers in a civil war had also once closed their eyes in panic when first forced to murder, yet eventually they killed for fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Non-con, obsession, death, murder, some form of sadism, rape, violence, general dark themes AND of course AU (AU as hell). This is a second part to [my other fic in this AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5688403). I'm not sure it will make much sense without it, but you're welcome to try!

Since the garage where Mac had met that man, something dark had come forth from within him; a hungry parasite rippling under his skin. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the images of that evening haunted his every waking thought with morbid euphoria. The garish angle of his nose, his battered face and the feeling of sweaty curls of hair in his fist. The way he had looked at him as he tried to crawl away through the dirt. So helpless, and just begging to be further broken in.

The memories filled him with such an overwhelming feeling. When he was alone he would touch himself, allow himself to surrender to this powerful urge conjured by the memories of Dennis submitting on his knees. It was like the man had awakened his very core – the darkest part of him, in the deep centre of his soul which every bit of his character had been built on, it was innate, it was the very reason he so craved domination over other men. Dennis had breathed life unto it.

As far as Mac was concerned, it wasn’t his fault – he couldn’t say it was Dennis’ either, at least not consciously. It was by some mere cosmic unluckiness that he had been sent to the right place, at the right time, with a body so fragile and timid he’d been powerless before him. Like he’d been designed for that moment, for this purpose. Perhaps it had been a test from God, to see if Mac had the power to resist. Of course he hadn’t even so much as thought about it at the time – meaning he had failed. Maybe a younger Mac would have fretted about it but he was well past the point of caring about divine judgement now. Instead he was hungry, and much like a starving man, he felt he might die if he didn’t get another taste.

He searched for him, longing for the savage raw feeling he’d felt that day to consume him once again. He wasn’t ever sure what he’d do if he found him, if he’d be able to hold back from his subconsciousness whispering violent dreams in his ear. Playing over all the ways he would make Dennis suffer, again and again. He wanted to torture him all through the night – wanted to learn every way in which he would scream for mercy. Mac wanted to see the look on Dennis’ face when he finally learnt that he would never give it to him.

Without it, Mac felt cold.

Despite scouring the entire city at every chance he got, on or off duty, he never found a trace. It was as if he had never even existed. He knew the other members of their mob were talking about him behind his back, that they all thought he was going crazy. To an outsider who had never felt the way Mac did, they couldn’t understand for the life of them why he would want to find that man. In all honesty, Mac could see their confusion, searching for someone only known by a first name and a face, without them owing him money or units of trade. It was a wild goose chase. He could only curse himself for his incompetency, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew his second name. But it was like looking through fog to see it, the letters were always obscured from view. Any files or documents from the garage which could have helped him were being held by the police, as was the green range rover which they'd been forced to ditch while fleeing near the industrial estate.

Searching for him was clearly a fools errand, expected only of those blinded by vengeance or some other form of stupidity. He was pretty sure only his increasingly savage temper and the connection to his father, via only son, were the only two things which bought their silence and kept him from suffering total isolation inside the gang.

As the weeks turned to months and the humid summer of August gave way to rainy September, Mac’s frustration at being unable to be reunited with this man slowly retreated inside. He gave in on his search, but he could never lock the feelings away. Instead he started to take on extra tasks for his father, each more violent and dangerous than the last – craving the brief rush of adrenaline which managed to temporarily snuff out the writhing lust for Dennis inside of him.

Eventually Mac pushed himself forward to take on his fathers hit list, much to Luther’s surprise. Reluctantly Luther had accepted, with neither him nor the other senior gang members expecting Mac to take to it like a natural. Mac had had his share of kills before, but few were selective. As of the first two run-ins in his new position, his reputation began to mutate further, into some kind of feral beast, just as he himself had after that fateful union.

The first hit had been a woman, it was an easy job and Mac had felt nothing afterwards. But it was pure coincidence that the second hit had looked just like him. It was as unfortunate for the hit as it would be for Dennis if Mac ever found him. When he’d first seen a photo Mac had barely batted an eyelid, but as soon as he had cornered him in his home and laid eyes on him in the flesh – a darkness flooded over him like a black tar draining all rational thought from his mind. He was the same age, if not younger. Darker hair and a small beard, but the body was unmistakably similar. The deep seated desire he'd felt months ago rushed through him once more, his heart beating wildly as he let instinct take over.

Rumours were that not only had he beat the man, but also that he had repeatedly raped him afterwards, until finally killing him with three bullets to the brain. When the reports came back, the body had been recorded as black and blue, one eye beaten near clean out of its socket, the face almost disfigured to the point where they had to use finger and palm prints to double check the identity.

Luther was, not exactly proud of his son, but for want of a better word he nervously praised him for it – unsure of what kind of man his son was growing in to. Part of Luther was scared that he had given birth to a son capable of committing an act so inherently evil, and felt no qualms about it enough to repeat it. But the other, larger part of Luther kicked the fearful thoughts of self-blame to the kerb, having no time to spare on such feelings, he had been born into the grisly underworld himself – just what exactly did he expect his son to turn into? A minister?

Sometimes it almost seemed laughable to Mac, that everyone was so afraid of him, when they themselves were in part responsible. Years ago, Luther and his friends had thought it was just a sick joke – give the kid the gun, force him to shoot the hostage. Let it be one final insult to the scared old man tied up in the ropes. Ever since, they were the ones who had nurtured the evil seed inside him, it was pathetic to see them so shocked now he’d begun to bloom.

Mac remembers reading how soldiers in a civil war had also once closed their eyes in panic when first forced to murder, yet eventually they killed for fun. Their disgust taking the form of revulsion, their desire - fascination.

Yet each time he clicked the trigger, or squeezed the last breath from a wrought out neck, it wasn’t the light leaving their eyes which released a wave of pleasure throughout him – it was the deep blue irises of Dennis’ which faded into view like blacking out on a high and made him, in that moment, feel almost euphoric. Each time he killed he felt like he was being brought closer to him. Each time he would remember something else, another small detail like a curl of hair against his forehead, the sound of his legs shaking on the ground or how the blood ran down the gentle slope of his lips. Every life he took brought him closer to Dennis, every one of them strengthening the belief inside of Mac that Dennis was his, and his alone, to enjoy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd add to this AU, yet here I am. There's probably a better fandom and characters it would be more suited to without need for an AU but this basically wrote itself. In a way I guess it's a nightmare version of Mac because he does love scaring people & being in control in canon. It's a new story rather than a new chapter bc I don't feel they're written in the same style? I really just needed to write smth dark so I hope that came across u - u I mean if not, you must have some seriously grey morality!!!


End file.
